


i know it makes you nervous

by Lysippe



Series: The Worst Witch 2018 Winter Fluff-A-Thon [4]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 06:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16848523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysippe/pseuds/Lysippe
Summary: “Hecate,’ Ada said again, gently, and if Hecate were to be perfectly honest, the frequency with which she was hearing her name spoken in this interaction was not helping at all with the creeping sense of anxiety she was feeling. “I was actually suggesting that perhaps you would be inclined to bring Miss Pentangle with you, this year.”





	i know it makes you nervous

**Author's Note:**

> f l u f f
> 
> Also this one has a sequel/second part sometime later in the month, but I don't quite remember when? I just remember that I definitely did write the actual party.

When Ada had called her into her office, Hecate had expected any number of things. A request for a status update on how the girls were progressing with their preparations for their upcoming practical exams. A quiet, below-the-board notice of yet more issues with the Magic Council. Perhaps, even, a well-intentioned but ultimately futile request that Hecate not be  _ quite  _ so hard on Mildred Hubble (it was necessary, she reasoned, to push her harder than ever before, if the girl truly wished to become a functioning, productive member of witching society. A goal which, on some days, seemed almost laughable in its unlikeliness). What she did not expect, however, was Ada, sitting calmly at her desk, barely sparing Hecate a glance at all as she walked through the door. 

And somehow, that set Hecate’s teeth on edge even more.

That placid smile had, in Hecate’s rather extensive experience working with Ada Cackle, typically been a portent of the worst kind of news: the kind that involved a favor, typically of the social variety, that Ada already knew Hecate would be resolutely opposed to under all ordinary circumstances (and, being realistic, most extraordinary ones, as well).

And so, it was with great trepidation that Hecate cleared her throat, took a single, hesitant step forward, and said, in the most deferential tone she could muster, “You wished to speak with me, Miss Cackle?” She was fully prepared for, and not at all disappointed by, the sigh that her formality always brought out. It was a well-established part of their relationship, that this aspect of her personality that had never failed to get under Ada’s skin, no matter how long they had known each other. But unlike most times, there was no correction, no gentle chastising about there being no need for such great formality in mundane situations.

Instead, Ada simply pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, waving a hand at the armchair in the corner of the office, which moved itself obediently across the floor, coming to rest precisely two feet from Ada’s desk. “Ah, yes,” she said. “Please, Hecate, have a seat.”

Hecate, more concerned than ever now, did not.

“Or don’t, I suppose,” Ada said with the sort of passive, resigned acceptance that came from having known Hecate for so long, from knowing that she was the sort of person who simply did not function well when sitting still. Or sitting at all. That she was at her best, most alert, and certainly most agreeable, when in a state of perpetual motion.

“Ada,” Hecate said slowly, cautiously, debating whether or not to bring up that she did, in fact, have a potions class starting within the hour, and would find it truly distasteful to set the precedent that lateness was at all acceptable, especially this close to exams. “There was… something  _ specific  _ you wished to discuss, was there not?”

“Of course there was,” Ada said, clearing her throat slightly. “It pertains to the annual staff holiday party on Friday.”

Hecate couldn’t help the way her eyebrows shot up for just a moment, the blatant expression of surprise she knew had crossed her face, unbidden and certainly unwelcome. And immediately, her instinct to find some kind of excuse, defense, or explanation for whatever it was that waited her at the eventual end of Ada’s thought process. Because while Hecate knew it was unlikely to be anything  _ too  _ catastrophic (at least, in any objective sense), she was equally certain that it was nothing good.

“Hecate,” Ada said again, patiently, as though Hecate were a student in need of encouragement, “do remember to breathe. You haven’t even heard what I have to say yet.”

Hecate bit down the urge to point out that anything pertaining to the not-quite-mandatory-but-strongly-encouraged party Ada threw for her staff after the students were all home for the holidays was unlikely to be pleasing to her. Instead, she nodded, the motion awkward and jerky even to her, and said, “Of course. Go on.”

“I merely wished to remind you,” Ada said cheerily, “that the party is for staff  _ and loved ones _ .”

Hecate blinked. Frowned. Blinked again. This was, she supposed, a heads-up of sorts. Likely pertaining to her well documented history of failing at social niceties when faced with people with whom she had no established relationship. Which, as much as it caused a twinge of embarrassment at her own social deficiencies, did seem quite fair and reasonable. She nodded her assent. “Very well,” she agreed. “Thank you for the forewarning. I will be certain to remember that.”

Ada sighed again, a very different kind of sigh this time. Weary and… perhaps a bit flustered? Though that may well have been in Heate’s imagination, as she had no idea what on earth would have flustered Ada about this conversation. “ _ Hecate _ ,’ Ada said again, gently, and if Hecate were to be perfectly honest, the frequency with which she was hearing her name spoken in this interaction was not helping at all with the creeping sense of anxiety she was feeling. “I was actually suggesting that perhaps you would be inclined to bring Miss Pentangle with you, this year.”

Hecate froze.

“I beg your pardon?” It was the only thing she could think of to say, the only possible reaction she could have to Ada suggesting that…

“I absolutely do  _ not  _ want you to feel pressured by this suggestion  _ in any way _ ,” Ada added emphatically, having apparently noticed the slight tailspin she had unintentionally sent Hecate into. “I simply thought, that given both your reluctance, at times, about interacting with people, and how well your... reconciliation with Miss Pentangle has gone, that perhaps it would make the entire event more palatable for you.”

It wasn’t that Hecate kept her relationship with Pippa a secret, per se. But she had never been the sort to publicize her personal business in any way, even to those closest to her. But Ada’s entire demeanor was entirely too knowing, too patient and cautious, to have been coincidental. And while she shouldn’t have been surprised - she and Ada had worked so closely together for so many years, after all - the revelation that part of her personal life that she had previously believed to be private was most certainly not, left Hecate a bit shaken.

“I shall be certain to keep that under advisement,” Hecate had said, as evenly as she could possibly make herself. Then, in a vain attempt at changing the subject to anything else, “Was there anything else, headmistress?”

“Not at all,” Ada said pleasantly. “I know you’re itching to get along to your class.” With a wave of her hand, Hecate was dismissed.

Which had left Hecate in the position she was in now, staring blankly at the mirror in her room, as though waiting for it to make a decision for her. Which, while absurd, would not have been entirely unwelcome. She had no idea what, exactly, it was that she was dreading so much about this call. As Ada had pointed out, she had an established relationship with Pippa. It would not be at all unreasonable for her to invite her…  _ significant other _ to a staff party. And she had no real fear of rejection, not from Pippa, whom she had always known to love a good party more than most. Something about the situation just felt overwhelming to her. 

Parties, even of the small, intimate, profoundly low-key variety, were not at all in Hecate’s wheelhouse. And while she had, of course, made an appearance at the Cackle’s staff party every holiday season, as was expected of the deputy headmistress, Hecate typically stayed precisely as long as social niceties dictated, and not a moment longer. But bringing a guest, especially one with Pippa’s social graces, would necessitate a more extended appearance. And while having Pippa accompany her would certainly make the ordeal substantially more bearable, it would still, ultimately, be an ordeal. There was also the confounding factor that, while Ada had, technically, offered it as a suggestion, Hecate was entirely too familiar with Ada and her suggestions where her social life was concerned. And there would, without a doubt, be questions to answer if she elected to show up alone. 

Questions Hecate was absolutely certain she did  _ not  _ wish to answer.

And so, it was with with a deep, resigned sigh that Hecate instructed her mirror to call Pippa’s, almost hoping that Pippa wouldn’t answer. Knowing that even if she didn’t, she would certainly call back. That it was not at all in Pippa’s nature to ignore a call from Hecate.

And of course, Pippa did answer. On the second ring, no less. And when she slid into view, beaming and wrapped in the fluffiest pink robe Hecate could ever have imagined, it was everything Hecate could do not to groan. 

“Hiccup!” Pippa said cheerily. “What a surprise! I wasn’t expecting a call from you. I didn’t forget, did I?” Then, more seriously, a frown creasing her brow, “Everything is okay, isn’t it?”

Hecate understood the implicit question immediately. She was not, and had never been one for spontaneity. She wouldn’t, under normal circumstances, think to mirror Pippa unannounced for any sort of mundane reason. “Everything is quite alright,” she assured Pippa, though the reality of her situation made her doubt that somewhat. “There are no impending catastrophes that require the immediate attention of you or anyone else.”

Pippa chuckled at that. “Well, that’s good to hear. And, dare I say, a bit of a change for Cackle’s.”

“Indeed,” Hecate said, a bit sourly.

“But all that aside,” Pippa waved a hand as though to physically dispel the unpleasantness, “to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

The warmth with which Pippa said it put Hecate just a bit more at ease than she had been. Her nervousness was completely ridiculous, an overreaction of the highest order. She was acting as though she were fifteen again, asking a pretty girl to dance. Not that she would ever have had half the nerve needed to do anything of the sort at fifteen. But she was not fifteen, and she knew, without question or doubt, exactly where she stood in Pippa’s eyes, as well as her heart.

“It has been suggested to me,” Hecate began, “rather bluntly, by Ada-”

Pippa’s laugh cut her off, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Ah, I do know of Ada’s suggestions.”

“Yes, well, at Ada’s  _ suggestion _ ,” Hecate continued, before she could lose her nerve, “I thought perhaps you would like to accompany me to the Cackle’s staff party on Friday.”

Pippa was silent for a long moment. Long enough that the thought occurred to Hecate that perhaps she had been mistaken. That of course, Pippa would have no interest in attending a staff function at Cackle’s as Hecate’s date. But the doubt vanished as quickly as it had appeared when Pippa’s countenance brightened. 

“Oh, Hiccup, I would  _ love  _ to.” Pippa’s tone was unnervingly close to what Hecate would normally have described as gushing, brown eyes sparkling with a familiar excitement, the sort that Hecate once used so often to mask her own creeping dread at the prospect of social functions of any variety. As infectious as Pippa’s excitement could be, Hecate had never quite managed to bring herself to share even the smallest spark of it in these situations. But at least Hecate could, if nothing else, always count on Pippa to carry a conversation when she herself was unwilling or unable.

Which was exactly what she did.  
  


Pippa arrived at Cackle’s at precisely six in the evening, exactly as instructed, wearing a dress that, while still a good deal more impressive than Hecate’s own, was still well within Ada’s parameters of “nothing over-the-top”.

And Hecate, who had watched Pippa’s arrival from her window, wondered only briefly whether or not she should make her way down to greet her. Her question was answered, however, by Pippa’s transference directly into her room, shimmering pink sparkles and all.

“Well met,” Pippa said brightly, teeth still chattering slightly from what Hecate could only assume was a rather chilly flight. Her nose was pink and her hands felt like ice in Hecate’s own, but Pippa still, somehow, radiated the same warmth that had drawn witches and wizards to her for her entire life. The very same that drew Hecate in, no different than when they were children.

“Well met,” Hecate murmured her response, brushing her hand lightly up Pippa’s arm, a warming spell dancing at the end of her fingers. She could see the spell’s progression, watched as Pippa’s teeth stopped chattering and the tips of her ears returned to the appropriate shade of pink and her body released the tension it had been holding. It was, in its own way, an intimate gesture, a kindness Hecate would grant to precious few. And Pippa knew it.

“That always was one of your better tricks,” Pippa said, softly, fixing Hecate with a warm gaze that Hecate hoped, despite herself, was not attributed to any kind of magic. Hecate gave Pippa a curt sort of nod and very purposefully did not say that it was a trick only Pippa had ever been privy to. She was suddenly far too aware of the weight and history behind those words. Pippa seemed to sense this, and clapped her hands together with a bright, “Well! Shall we be getting on downstairs, then?”

She tucked her arm into Hecate’s almost automatically, casually, as though locking elbows in overly-formal dresses was something they did every day. As though it wasn’t something odd, and telling, and far too revealing for Hecate’s liking. An intimate gesture in its own way, then.

But somehow, Hecate found, that this one, she didn’t actually mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on Tumblr @ thebestdressedrebelinhistory


End file.
